Page 65 of Hunting the Warlord's Daughter

“My bossy big brother.”

Fates, it was hard letting her go.

She may be your little sister, but she’s tough, and she’s capable. Like Wren.Still, it didn’t make it any easier, seeing her off.

“I’ll be fine.” Mischief sparkled in her eyes as she rolled them.

“If anyone gives you any trouble, call me or Bolivarr.”

“Wren is the real bad-ass. If I need defending, I’ll call her. She doesn’t need a dozer. Just give her a food tray.” They laughed before she assured him, “Aye, don’t worry, Aral. I will.”

“Wren wants you to visit Barokk. She wants to take you fishing.”

“Tell her I will look forward to it.” Kaz hugged him a long moment. “I’ll be in touch. Wait—are those tears I see?”

“Fates, no. Something’s in my eye. Dust, I think.”

“Bah! Being in love and a married man has made you soft.”

“Not soft. More in tune with my emotions.”

She threw her head back and laughed. “Now that’s something I never thought I’d hear.”

“Love you, Kazara,” he grumbled.

“Love you too, Aral.” She came to attention, heels clicking together as she saluted. Then, reaching for the gangway’s railing, she swung herself up into theResilience, calling down him, “Remember when we talked about closing the book on the past? How we would write new books for ourselves? You certainly have. Now it’s my turn. Today is my first chapter one.”

Kaz aimed one last smile at him, and the hatch sealed shut.

EPILOGUE

LATER THAT YEAR

In the warmlight of late afternoon, Aral pulled on the oars of the small boat, moving them swiftly across the lake on the southern continent of Barokk. The water was a mirror image of the sky. The chubby clouds with pink underbellies shattered where the oars struck the surface. Miles of woods and meadows carpeted the hillsides.

Wren inhaled the scent of wildflowers and sun-warmed trees. In the distance were lavender mountains, bare of snow this time of year—the height of summer. From this distance, their cabin at the edge of the woods looked tiny. Itwastiny. Filling up quickly with keepsakes and love, it was a work in progress, with only a big, downy-soft bed and small kitchen—a place to call home between their travels.

An escape, aye, but no longer for dark purposes.

Gone were Ilkka’s storage bins of food and supplies, once intended to tide them over until loyalists could reach the cabin and force Wren to join them. She and Aral had lugged the bins to a set of buildings under construction on the other end of the lakeshore. Camp Whole-Hearted would be the realization of a dream—the first of what Wren envisioned in the many of retreats for child war victims, places across the galaxy where even the littlest survivors would experience kindness, sunshine, outdoor activities, and ultimately hope and healing. It wouldn’t matter on which side of the border they had been born—or even what their parents had done. All would be welcome.

Aral stowed the oars when they were far enough from shore, and they drifted over the deepest part of the lake. Quiet, with a look of love in his dark eyes, he watched her reach into the basket.

Water lapped at the sides of the wooden fishing boat as Wren carefully unwrapped the urn containing her mother’s ashes. She’d thought long and hard about whether to scatter them on Issenda or here. In the end, she’d decided that it was only right that they finally be together here on Barokk, the only true home Wren had ever known.

In her heart, she knew it was the right choice.

“I wish I’d been old enough to remember you, Mother. I can only imagine what it must have been like to have to make such wrenching decisions. It was, in the end, the right thing. Your love lives on inside me—youlive on inside me. I feel you in my soul.” Wren tipped the urn to release the ashes. They flew away in the wind, disappearing into the air and water.

Go with the Goddess, Mama.“You’re free now.”

Wren pulled another item from a basket, a pouch with the jewels Sabra had given her. In lieu of her ashes, she’d decided to scatter the gems on the lake to honor her.

“Sabra, you recognized my spirit, my inner fire—what I called the beast. You made sure that fire never went out. You knew it was a vital part of me, just as my thirst for knowledge. Oh, Sabra, I loved nothing more than to lose myself in those books—to the detriment of getting my chores done, as you know.” Wren smiled, remembering.

“They’re here now, those books—at the retreat. May they spark the imagination of these little ones, as you sparked mine. I also thank you for teaching me combat skills, even though at the time I didn’t know why. I do now. Hoping for peace isn’t always enough to stop evil. Sometimes you have to fight for it.”

She opened the pouch, her voice thickening. “Sabra, I forgive you for all the secrets. I do. You only wanted to keep me safe, and you did. You were the mother I never knew. The best of mothers. You taught me what love was. That was the most important thing of all.”

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